Of all the places Ellana expected her long life to take her, a grand ball at Halamshiral's Winter Palace was not one. At least she wasn't required to wear a gown. Josephine explained that a military uniform was never out of place on such occasions… and produced the designs for a fetching red number that was decidedly gilted. But it had pants and practical boots and Ellana got to hide her expression behind a mask like, apparently, everyone else did. Though in her case, she suspected, the shape of the mask was chosen intentionally not to aggravate the nobles with her Dalish markings. It was a truly bizarre experience, mingling with all these masked nobles you could hardly tell from one another, listening in on trite conversations and eating useless little things on sticks that were probably designed to fit through the holes in the masks, all the while trying to prevent an assassination plot. But apparently that was just how things were supposed to go on these occasions (including, according to both Josephine and Leliana, the assassination).
The only ones who seemed to enjoy the experience were, unsurprisingly, Leliana and, very surprisingly, Solas. The latter had somehow smuggled in a truly hideous helmet that he wore proudly as some kind of an inside joke that no one else seemed to get, despite all attempts by Josephine, who was hovering over everyone like a worried mother hen, to remove and burn it.
She found him lounging by the window, projecting an easy confidence she wished she could borrow. Maybe it was the helmet. Maybe it was enchanted. Or maybe he was drunk.
"You look like you're enjoying yourself, at least," she observed, taking a place next to him. That was the picture, just two guests watching the comings and goings, seeing how the place worked. That these guests happened to have pointed ears was a minor detail. Solas took a sip from his glass and smiled in an easy manner that was completely baffling to her.
"I do enjoy the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger and sex that permeates these events," he admitted, sounding positively predatory. Perhaps he really was drunk.
"Let me guess. You go to the Fade and watch balls throughout the ages," she supplied. Where could an elf, even one who lived for a long time, get so familiar with whatever the powerful did to entertain themselves? Ellana's certainly had no such opportunity before. And then there were also the things Cole had said back at the Dalish camp. You really had to develop a knack for understanding the spirit, it always sounded like you were missing at least half of the conversation, especially when he talked with - or about - Solas. Things didn't fit. She already had so many pieces, but not a single corner. Frustrating didn't even begin to cover it. "Was it anything like this in Arlathan?"
"Hm. You'd find them all quite the same. Only the costumes change," Solas shrugged and gestured a servant over as his glass was getting empty.
"Did you dance there too?" she nudged.
"Of course," he agreed readily. He didn't even bother to drop the usual 'in my journeys in the Fade' anywhere into the conversation. Huh. "Unfortunately dancing with an elven apostate here would win you few favors."
"Solas, I am an elven apostate," she reminded him. Everyone was making such an effort to ignore the fact that their chosen one was a mage and an elf, it was quite ridiculous. As she expected, her more physical approach to battle magic was making that self-deception easier to swallow for most people.
"No. You are the Herald of Andraste, leader of the Inquisition. You are more important than any of them," he suddenly went serious. He always tried to assure her that her role as Inquisitor was important and well-deserved. In a way it was, and Ellana wasn't prone to false humility, but she also wasn't going to fool herself that, were it not for the accidental magical mark on her hand, she would not be in this position. Still, if she could turn it into an advantage for the People, at least she would honor Ameridan's memory. But…
"Please," she rolled her eyes. "Most of the nobles here see me as some kind of exotic pet on display."
"And that can also be used to your advantage. Those that do not take you seriously will tend to say too much around you."
"I try," she sighed. It was already a long evening, and they weren't much closer to finding Corypheus's agents here. In a sea of agendas and plots and petty rivalries it was hard to find the right one. "Have you heard anything?"
"No, sadly. I am an elf, but I do not have the look of one of the servants, so the guests here don't quite know what to make of me. And the servants are also suspicious, though happy enough to refill my glass," he raised it in demonstration.
"The servants do seem troubled." Ellana's eyes followed yet another elf with a tray of useless little sandwiches on sticks. "But they won't talk to us and apparently they're not friends of Red Jenny. And we have no time to earn their trust," she sighed. If she wanted to work that angle, she needed Briala, who just happened to be one of the suspects. "I need to go. Mingle."
"Hunt well," he raised his glass in a salut.
When the day was finally over, she felt like going to sleep for a few years. She's long suspected that ancient elves invented the practice of Uthenera just so they didn't have to talk to anyone for a hundred years or two. Sadly, even if she knew how to do it and managed to get someone to watch over her body and provide the necessary nourishment, these days she was lucky to get a single full night's sleep.
She was standing on one of the many balconies watching the lights in the garden below, blissfully alone. Her mask was finally off. She wasn't sure at which point it was polite to take it off, but the thing was starting to seriously hurt her ears.
Neither the attempted assassination of the Empress nor the revelation of the hostess being the one behind it had soured the evening for the Orlesians. If anything, it made the rather dull affair that much more entertaining. There were so many things to discuss after the earth-shattering revelations and the quite scandalous announcements, how could anyone possibly just go home after that? And so the evening had proceeded as planned, most of the guests just starting to make their exits now.
She didn't hear the steps approaching her over the music and her own ruminations, and so the sudden voice made her jump.
"Thought I'd find you out here," Solas leaned on the railing next to her. "Thoughts?"
"We succeeded in all we set out to do," she shrugged. "Though an elven Marquise of the Dales is an… unexpected development."
"Isn't this something the Dalish want? To take back the Dales one day?"
"The Dalish want to be free and safe, wherever that may be," she shook her head. Though Solas seemed to have a better outlook on the Dalish these days compared to when they first met, he still seemed to hold some deep grudge against them. "Briala's position is entirely dependent on her standing with the Empress, who isn't young and has no direct heir she could influence to keep the Dales in elven hands. This is likely to be a short affair that'll end bloody."
And we'll have to keep an eye on it, she added to herself. Perhaps between the weakened Chantry, the Dalish Inquisitor and the monarch of a powerful country having a love affair with an elf they could just manage to alter the human perception of the elves enough for it to stick for a generation or two. Little steps, that's what it was all about. She needed to send some private messages, but that would have to wait until she's alone.
"You don't need to think about it now. Today has been a victory, take time to celebrate it," Solas looked around and offered her a hand. "Come. Before the band stops playing, dance with me!"
She very nearly laughed. Solas was in unusually high spirits this whole time, in stark contrast to pretty much all the rest of the Inquisition. Who knew he had that in him.
"Are you sure you want to risk it, considering what happened the last time we danced?" she raised an eyebrow.
"I am reasonably certain we are awake now." His hand still hovered in the air.
"I'll take your word for it," she signed and took his hand, letting him lead. He chose to waltz, prim and proper, and while it fit their surroundings well, she still had to wonder where - or for that matter why - he learned it. He wasn't the one Josephine drilled for days before the ball.
The godawful helmet didn't look much better in the torchlight, but from underneath it Solas's eyes were watching her in that intense way he had, though these days his face had a softer expression when he looked at her than in the beginning.
"You look like you want to ask something," she noted.
"Were you always like this?"
"Like what?" She was genuinely confused. That question could mean many different things.
"The way you look at the world," he tried to clarify. The dance came back down to basic steps as he was struggling to formulate something. "Your mind, your morals, your… spirit?"
She considered the question. It was a very Solas thing to ask, but it carried with it an anxious undercurrent that made it more than simple curiosity.
"Are you worried the Anchor had somehow changed me?" she ventured a guess.
"Perhaps. Do you think it has?"
"I'm not sure I would be the right person to ask if it has," she attempted a shrug without breaking off the dance. "What I do know is it offers an insight into the nature of the Veil that could change our entire understanding of how our world works, if we can only take the time to really study it. Forget about me, that kind of knowledge could change the world as we know it."
"You are quite unique," he smiled fondly.
"I'm really not," Ellana shook her head. "You have not been meeting the right people."
Before he could answer, a soldier in Inquisition uniform walked onto the balcony and saluted.
"Inquisitor. We are ready to depart. Commander Cullen is waiting for you," he reported.